evanescent
by ideay
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a lonely little Prince. He lived in a cursed Kingdom, scorned by his servants and ignored by his own father, The King. But on the night of his tenth birthday, his life changes forever when he hears the cry of a newborn baby... — #beautyandthebeastAU #soulmateAU #slowburn


_Some princes aren't borne royal leaders; sometimes, they are yanked from the roots of their hair, raked through mud and crucified on their own very throne before they can even walk. This is how little boys are made into men._

_Some princes don't become Kings; they become merciless tyrants instead. _

_Because only monsters can make proper rulers, even when they don't want to be._

**ໟ ****.~( PART i )~. ****ໟ**

_**001\. death comes in the form of a lullaby**_

**ONCE UPON A TIME **in a land far away, there was a Kingdom known as _Erste Ordnung*_. A Kingdom that hadn't known peace or prosperity, happiness or joy in centuries— it'd always been cursed, always under damnation, all under dictators and monsters, men who were hardly ever human… worst of them all, the latest, a tyrant whose name nobody dared to whisper out into the open, even after his alleged death and the cremation of his body. Some said his existence was so purely and undeniably evil that it manifested itself even after his doom; some took precautions, practiced and dwindled with the forces of darkness, of the unknown, just to try and undo the madness that was this very Kingdom and it's history of bloodshed, anarchy and tragedy.

And so, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that like the beginnings of a plague thundered by God Almighty himself, the moment Han Solo's son was brought into the world, whispers of an omen reborn was deemed upon the already decaying Kingdom of Erste Ordnung. Vilification among the chambers of the crumbling castle were not spared from the small bundle that barely wailed, thought for sure to perish from his lack of breath and movement. Instead, vituperating words were used to _fuel _the already existing premonition that Ordnung was doomed since the fall of His Late Majesty, King Vader's nearly fifty year reign. Yet as fate would have it, when first in line Prince Luke Himmelsläufer* was exiled on account of the belief that he 'drank from the Devil's personalized goblet' and went mad because of the fact, it had been Princess Leia Himmelsläufer left to step up to her duty as Queen and wipe out the mess her father left behind. The horror borne from the scandal of her _tainting _the royal bloodline with a thief was not delivered in malice, as the couple radiated _love _from their union. They had not married with her pure virtue intact, or so the whispers went at the sight of her protruding belly during the wedding ceremony.

Leia had not even ruled but a week as Queen, and the life was sucked dry from her impassioned eyes loyally plastered on her husband's; a wordless plea, a sonnet of love and heartbreak of not being able to embrace her newborn were all trapped in her gaze before the life in her slowly passed. She was hemorrhaging profusely and she had already lost too much blood. It was over before Han could even blink; and his hand had lingered on hers for far too long before he forced himself to let go. Instead, he was left with a barely living pasty _creature _that was nothing more than a sickly blob through burning moistened eyes. The infant was making an effort to scream, and _oh he was _**_trying_**_— _but what was supposed to be piercing wails bursting through those small lungs were nothing more than haggard dry heaves, as if the very air around him was tainted, poisonous, and in a fit of panic, Han mentally forced himself through the fresh wound of just _having lost his _**_wife _**_not more than three seconds ago, _eyes hardening and throat encasing in of itself as he looked feverishly to all the midwives and with all the authority he _hadn't _possessed in a single cell of his royal-less bloodline, his tone echoed through the walls of the bedroom:

"Here now! Why are you all standing about and gawking?! _Save my boy!_"

A crucial detail had escaped from his thoughts; this was a premature birthing. Leia hadn't been due in nearly six weeks and with a foreboding sense to his own mental demise, the man realized he was about to witness two consecutive deaths spanning seconds from each other. He couldn't fathom the sheer concept, and he nearly crushed his own soul by refusing to let grief rattle his bones; determination pumped through instead.

"Why is he not _breathing __properly__?!_" In his renowned conviction, he also realized that these people were probably fearing this; not outwardly, and perhaps not even intentionally, but considering the truly last hope that was to _annihilate_ their Late Royal Majesty's legacy had just passed _and _that Han was nothing more than a dirty thief that held no real authority or knowledge on their land's politics, the inevitable fact that the very last of the royal blood was a sickly little thing had stapled their feet to the floor in a blind panic. With all and any trace of royal blood _gone_, what did this mean for Erste Ordnung? It was an omen that weighed on everyone's shoulders.

Despite all that, the Han's gaze was momentarily stopped at the fact that his _son_ had _raven _colored locks. Leia would have gushed at her son having black curls. His heart nearly crushed his rib cage in heavy grief at the sight.

The midwife held the bundled baby like a filthy animal; at arm's length and with shaking knees. Her eyes were wide and wet. "Y-y-your M-Majesty… he's much too _weak_," she looked at the doctor for assurance, who didn't spare a glance, save for the _fascinating _floor beneath them as he wrung his hands until they were well and swollen. "His lungs are t-too— oh _Lord_, he's much too _small_ and delicate…!" She was young and still too inexperienced in her profession, and without so much as a peep from the others, it was no wonder she resorted to a being blubbery mess; too caught up on the possibility that today was a _damned _day, and with The Queen being no more than just a few feet away, the new stench of death lingered on her nostrils and seeped through her mind. Not surprisingly, she wept, wording all the thoughts that everyone had on their minds. "Oh, _Dear Lord, _what does this _mean?! _Oh, _Heavens _p-please have **mercy **upon our souls, did our former _Führer _not bring enough _devastation _o-onto us? When will it all cease?!"

Han was literally about to strike the girl, had she not been carrying his child, for his patience had no room for her wailing cries; his heart clenched at every question, every _ludicrous _incoherent ramble that did nothing save to twist his palpating heart and send it at the bottom pit of his stomach. His wife, whom had just been alive _minutes _ago, seemed to slumber like a resting angel. He didn't want to look at her, didn't even want to _breathe _around her in some self-delusion that he was tainting her even more so than the very fresh blood and fluid staining her garments.

But thankfully, the Doctor, snapping out his pitiful reverie at the loss of Her Majesty, saved him from uttering a single word. "_Enough _hysterics, girl. Give him here now, he must be wiped clean; he needs sustenance from his mother, _immediately_." This petrified Han, for not only the thought of his baby feeding off his dead mother had disturbed him immensely, it also gave him the impression that the boy would choke. At his widened eyes, the older man shook his head. "Her… Late Majesty is still equipped with the boy's feeding. He's weak, Sire, but he is not helpless; it's wise to not deprive him of the necessary nutrients, and take advantage of it… while we can. The midwives will remove him at half-minute intervals so that they can regulate his breathing, and then he shall be placed in an isolette should he, Heaven forbid, get any weaker."

Han was only able to give a shaky breath as he covered the entirety of his mouth with a trembling hand, and nodded.

"Though perhaps now is a good time as any, your Majesty; what have you chosen as a name?"

With an arrow through his heart and sweat practically dripping from his face, Han fought to not buckle his knees and pass out. Leia had always wanted her own children to bear her husband's last name; Himmelsläufer was a legacy they wanted to be rid of they moment they consummated their relationship. The name that Leia had chosen when they found out they were expecting burned in the back of his throat like coal. Thunder roared outside and rain started to pour.

Crystal drops splattered against the floor near his feet; his voice came out a ragged, broken whisper: "Ben Solo… His name shall be _Ben Solo_..."

Fearing the near-animosity from those in his surroundings, sensing their passion in their heartbreak, and their crumbling hope, The King was nearly crushed from the ferocity of his determination to protect his one and only child, and came to a startling decision that would unbeknownst to the outside world for many years to come; The Young Prince would remain hidden, forbidden to stray past the Kingdom's walls. The doctor had insisted to the King that it was highly possible that he was not to live past the age of seven, and so the desperate measures weren't necessary. That was, until he was proven wrong when the boy lived a day past his seventh birthday.

Then two.

Then a week.

And then three years after his estimated year of death.

And so, the Young Prince's existence was hidden beneath Erste Ordnung's castle walls, rumored to have been a phantom of Leia's Himmelsläufer babe's 'failed birth'. Everyone within the Kingdom's interior knew the truth, however.

Everyone, except for the very Prince himself.

**( &. )**

**(*) ****Erste Ordnung: **'First Order' in German.

**(*) ****Himmelsläufer: **'Sky Walker' in German.


End file.
